


Jacob's Ladder

by imogenbynight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Monsters, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Music, Radio DJ Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imogenbynight/pseuds/imogenbynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean develops a crush on a radio DJ who doesn't know the first thing about the music he's playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jacob's Ladder

**Author's Note:**

> A prizefic for thesbian6, who requested Dean and Cas going on their first date. I stretched the prompt to include the lead up to the date so I could use this idea for a radio dj AU that I’ve been sitting on forever :P 
> 
> This was only meant to be 3-5k long, and yet here we are again with 8k of nonsense.
> 
> I hope you like it!

 

Every weeknight for the past four months, Dean has ended his work day at six-thirty, slipped behind the wheel of his '67 Impala, and tuned in to _The Hit Pit_ for the half hour drive home. Hosted by the ex-guitarist of one of his favorite bands, it's basically an auditory smorgasbord of the most influential music from the last few decades of the 20th century.

It's a pretty mixed bag, song wise--playing everything from Sabbath to Santana to Sonic Youth—but it hasn't let him down yet.

Well. It _hadn't_ , anyway. Right up until now.

Because, as the last notes of the inimitable Johnny Cash’s _Ring of Fire_ fade out, the DJ cuts in to introduce Jefferson Starship's _White Rabbit_ as one of the best songs of all time. 

Jefferson fucking Starship. 

Dean has never felt so betrayed in his life.

In his haste to change the station before he has to listen to a single second of Grace Slick’s god-awful caterwauling, he accidentally hits the seek button on the radio. The next signal along is some local station he's never heard of. Some serious-voiced guy talking.

He's about to press the button to switch over to the tape deck when the voice crossfades into the opening riff to _Thunderstruck_ , and he turns up the volume instead. Taps out the rhythm on the steering wheel and sings along with the windows down.

When it ends, it's immediately followed by _Renegade_ , and Dean forgets he was going to put a tape on.

The road he's driving down winds through a thatch of trees, and by the time he emerges from the other side the song is finishing.

**_“That was Styx, and you're listening to Jacob's Ladder. I'm... not Jacob.”_ **

Dean snorts, glancing down at the radio dial, and turns the volume down slightly now that the music has stopped.

**_“I will, however, be hosting while Jacob is away, which means that for the foreseeable future, you’ll be hearing me--”_ **

There’s a slightly awkward pause, and Dean narrows his eyes, hand hovering over the dial just in case the radio is about to take another trip down Jefferson's fucking rabbit hole, but then _Let the Music Do the Talking_ kicks off and Dean snorts out a laugh before he cranks it loud.

“You win this round, Not Jacob,” he says aloud.

It’s still playing when he gets home, and he sits in the car to let it play out. He programs K-HVN into the Impala’s radio, writing over the traitor station’s preset, grabs his long-empty travel mug from the passenger seat, and heads inside.

+++

Not Jacob, Dean learns as he drives home the following night, is actually named Cass. What that could be short for he has no idea. Cassidy? Casper? It’d be Cas with one S, in that case. Dean’s got no clue. 

At any rate, the guy is kind of weird for a radio host. He doesn’t seem to know a whole lot about the genre of music he’s playing, for one thing. He’s kind but blunt, and occasionally profound, and in Dean’s opinion, he gives a little too much of himself away while still, somehow, remaining kind of a mystery.

After playing Supertramp’s _Goodbye Stranger_ , he tells his listeners about the months before he came to work as an assistant at the station, when he was between jobs and drifting around the midwest with nothing but the coat on his back.

“ ** _I learned over the winter that there is untold magnanimity to be found in strangers, if you only give them the chance to prove it. And on that note, I’d like to play a song much loved by one of those strangers who offered me kindness when I needed it.”_**

The song he plays is _Believe It Or Not_ by Joey Scarbury, and any other time Dean would have turned the station. Now, though, with Cas’ story fresh in his mind, he listens the whole way through with a weird lump in his throat.

When the song’s over, Cas returns with a story about a retirement home he’d volunteered at, where a visiting grandchild stuck a firecracker in an octogenarian’s birthday cake. He calls it an “unfortunate pastry mishap” and Dean laughs so hard he misses his turnoff.

He arrives home nearly fifteen minutes later than usual. Without intending to, he spends most of the night thinking about what Cas said; about the people who helped him, about the difficult weeks before anyone did. It leaves Dean feeling restless, and he lies awake, staring at the shadows on his wall.

+++

Dean’s day is dull on Friday, dragging on and on and on with mind-numbing repetition. Nothing but oil changes and tire rotations and all the other stuff that puts him to sleep. Every little task seems more boring than the last, and by the time he clocks off he’s at the end of his rope. Even so, as soon as the radio clicks on and he hears Cas talking about the summer he spent farming honey in North Dakota as a segue into a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, he finds himself smiling.

He’s halfway home when someone calls in to request _Somebody to Love_ , and to Dean’s surprise, Cas actually groans at them. While the song plays, he pulls over onto the shoulder and turns down the volume. His cell is in his hand before he’s given it a whole lot of thought, and then it’s ringing, and then--

“K-HVN FM, this is Donna,” a bright voice greets him, and Dean immediately feels like the world’s biggest dork.He ignores the impulse to hang up.

“Uh, hi,” he says, scrunching his face a little as he wonders what on earth possessed him to do this. He didn’t even realize that he memorized the station’s phone number until he’d already dialed it. “I’m calling for the uh, listener stories thing?”

“Okie dokie,” Donna says. “I just need a couple of details real quick. What’s your name?”

The song is almost over when Donna thanks him and puts him on hold, and he switches his radio off completely so as to avoid a feedback loop. When his call is reconnected he’s nervous and embarrassed.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says down the line, and Dean feels his face split into an involuntary grin. “What’s your story?”

“Oh,” Dean blinks. “It’s kinda stupid, but I um. The first time I listened to your show was a couple of days ago, and I only found it because I was avoiding listening to Jefferson Starship on K-HLL.”

Cas laughs. Honest to god _laughs_. Dean grins widely.

“So basically,” he goes on, a little more confident, “I’m calling in to say, uh... thanks for nothing.”

Cas still has a humored tilt to his voice when he answers, and Dean can’t help but feel like he’s won something by putting it there. In the past three days, Dean’s pretty sure nobody’s managed it yet.

“I have to admit, my own disdain for all things Jefferson is not so much related to their music as it is another of my less than honorable cousins, and her reckless decision to purchase a pair of wolamutes.”

Dean blinks.

“A pair of what now?”

“Designer dogs. Malamutes crossed with timber wolves. They are exactly as terrible an idea as they sound--and illegal in most sensible parts of the country--but my cousin Eve managed to get two of them, and then named them after her favorite bands.”

Dean can’t help but scoff.

“A truly unpleasant woman,” Cas replies with a disdainful sigh. “So on a scale of Airplane to Starship, Dean, how much do you loathe me for playing that song?”

“Next Generation,” Dean quips, and is thrilled when it pulls another laugh from Cas.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he says through his laugh. “Allow me to make it up to you. I’ve got, uh… something by Metallica queued up next, but the one after that is all yours. Stay on the line.”

“Awesome,” Dean grins, and sinks back against his seat when the on hold music starts playing through his cell. A few moments later, Cas is speaking to him again.

“Dean,” Cas says, and bizarrely, it makes Dean’s chest squeeze a little to hear him saying his name. “Thank you for holding.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Dean says.

“What can I play for you?”

“Make it some Zep,” Dean says without hesitation.

“Zep,” Cas repeats, an odd tone to his voice that Dean can’t quite place. “Any, uh… any particular song?”

“Surprise me.”

Cas clears his throat awkwardly.

“Um,” he says. “I don’t know if you’ve heard me mention during the past few days, but this isn’t my usual--”

“Oh my god,” Dean says, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “Led Zeppelin, Cas. Make it Ramble On.”

Dean’s not sure why he’s being so familiar with the guy, but the name is out of his mouth before he’s considered how it might sound, and then Cas is speaking again and it doesn’t matter.

“Oh, of course. Alright,” Cas sounds flustered now. Dean doesn’t blame him. “Aside from a few exceptions, I’m not all that familiar with the names of bands.” 

“Why are you filling in on the show, then?” Dean asks, and immediately curses himself for being so blunt. “Not that, uh. Not that I’m complaining. I like listening to you, like-- Your voice is, I mean--” Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “Any time you want to save me from myself would be great.”

Cas charitably refrains from commenting on Dean’s awkward rambling.

“The regular host had a family emergency, and Anna--she usually fills in if he’s not here--had a minor car accident on her way to the studio on the first day. I was the only person at the station whose usual tasks weren’t considered essential, so...”

“So they just shoved you in the booth and said good luck?” Dean guesses.

“Something like that,” Cas laughs. “But apparently the audience liked me, and the producer asked me to fill in for the rest--” Cas cuts himself off, and there’s a muffled voice in the background that Dean thinks sounds a lot like Donna, and then Cas is talking to him again. “I apologize, Dean, the song is almost over. Thank you for calling.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dean says, and then the line goes dead, and he pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it in utter horror. “ _You too?_ ”

When he overcomes his embarrassment, he turns the radio back on, and the tail end of _Some Kind of Monster_ is still playing. He drums his hands over the steering wheel and pulls back onto the road, and the song fades out, giving way to _Whole Lotta Love_. He winds down the window. Cranks the music loud.

After it ends, Cas comes back on the air.

“ ** _And that was the only acceptable kind of musical airship; Led Zeppelin. I hope that made up for the Jefferson Airplane, Dean. Now--_** ”

Beaming at his radio, Dean tries to ignore the giddy schoolboy feeling in his stomach and takes the long way home.

+++

On Saturday afternoon, Dean listens to K-HVN while he’s out in his garage working on the Impala. He’s not entirely sure _why_ , considering that the station doesn’t seem to play much that interests him outside of the one show on weeknights, but he tells himself it’s just convenience. The car radio was already tuned that way, after all.

For hours, he listens to music he just barely likes as he gives the car a thorough tune up, but it’s not until he hears Cas in a thirty-second advertisement for Jacob’s Ladder that he realizes that he’s been hoping to hear his voice. It’s embarrassing for a moment, and he returns to his task until the next time the ad plays, when he pauses just to listen.

“Who’s got you so starry-eyed?”

Blinking, he looks toward the open garage door, where his housemate Benny is standing with an oversized pot in his hands, his brow raised in amusement. Dean scrubs at his face, smearing it with grease in the process.

“No-one,” he says. Benny purses his lips and nods.

“Whatever you say, brother,” he says, and lifts the pot a little. “I brought some extra shrimp étouffée back from Mom’s, if you’re hungry.”

On cue, Dean’s stomach rumbles, and he wipes his hands clean on his jeans.

“Looks like lunch to me,” Dean says, and closes the hood. “How’s the family?”

While he slowly works his way through a bowl of Benny’s mom’s specialty, his mind wanders back to the radio host again and again.

“You sure you’re not mooning over someone over there?” Benny asks, and Dean looks up from his food to find Benny watching him with a humored smile. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting home later than usual lately.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean insists. He’s pretty sure _I’ve got a mild crush on a faceless DJ_ would be nothing but an open invitation for months of mockery. “It’s been a busy week, that’s all.”

He forces himself to pay more attention to what Benny is saying after that, and only lets himself drift back to the subject of Cas once, when Benny mentions that his parents have moved his grandmother into a retirement home. He relates the pastry mishap story to him; somehow, it gets nothing more than a mildly amused snort out of him.

“Come on, that story is hilarious,” Dean says, and Benny shrugs. “I guess it’s all in the delivery.”

That night, he lets Benny talk him into a night out with a few friends, and for the first time since Wednesday he manages to go a few solid hours without thinking of the radio host. His hangover on Sunday does away with most cognitive function, and by Monday morning, Dean has all but forgotten about Cas.

Then he gets into his car, and starts up the engine, and the radio clicks on to an ad for the show.

... ** _tune_** **_in for Jacob’s Ladder, weeknights from six. I’m... not Jacob._**

Dean’s heart flutters.

“God fucking damnit,” he mutters.

He spends the first half of the day irritated at himself, and only shakes it off when Bobby accuses him of being a royal pain in the ass.

“I don’t know who pissed in your cornflakes this morning,” he says after stomping into the break room while Dean’s eating his lunch, “but you’d better get over it before you come back. You’re driving me up the goddamn wall.”

He stomps back out before Dean can swallow his mouthful.

“Sorry,” he says when he returns to the garage. “I was pissed at myself.”

“No shit,” Bobby says without looking up from the engine his hands are buried in. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

“Not unless you suddenly want to hear about my embarrassing lack of a love life,” Dean shoots back, and Bobby just snorts.

“Give me strength,” he says, and Dean gets back to work.

It takes him the better part of a catalytic converter replacement--nearly two and a half hours--to come to the conclusion that he’s being a jackass about the whole thing. He can’t help who he’s into, even if that means he’s got a thing for a guy he only knows through a radio show. Beating himself up about it is pointless.

As soon as he’s decided as much, he finds himself looking forward to the drive home.

+++

The first thing he hears when he starts up the car is David Bowie, and he turns the volume up as he pulls out of his space outside Bobby’s.

“ ** _I must confess_** ,” Cas says when the song ends, “ ** _despite having no occasion to listen to any popular music while growing up, I spent a significant portion of my teenage years harboring an enormous crush on David Bowie, just based on the slip cover of an album I’d seen in a friend’s parent’s living room. I didn’t actually hear one of his songs until I left my parent’s house, and that song was Life on Mars. So thank you, Nora, for requesting it.”_**

Dean can’t help but be intrigued by the little snippets of Cas’ past that he lets slip on air, and he wishes he could just sit down somewhere to talk to him. Not for the first time, he wonders what he might look like, but stops himself before he gets too far.

“ ** _Next up is a band I’m embarrassed to say I knew little of until last week. I’ve spent the past weekend educating myself, and a caller I had late last week is largely to blame. If you’re listening, Dean, this one’s for you._** ”

It’s a wonder that Dean doesn’t run right off the road. As it is, he does pull over, and he spends the entirety of _Going to California_ attempting to control his heartbeat and arguing with himself over whether or not he should call the station.

His cell times out and goes back to sleep as he’s staring at it, and he wakes it up twice before he finally dials the number. The same woman from last week patches him through, and before Dean knows it he’s on the radio again.

“Hello again, Dean,” Cas says.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. “I just thought I’d call to say thanks for the shout out.”

“Thank you for inspiring me to look into the music I’m working with,” Cas replies, and Dean is glad nobody is around to see him fail to fight off his blush. “It’s been a very educational weekend. ”

“You have any favorites yet?”

“Other than the one I just played?”

“Yeah,” Dean says.

“I think it’s a little early to say,” Cas says with a laugh. “More study is required. Can I play anything for you tonight?”

“Well you already know my favorite song, so... how about you play yours?”

“Alright,” Cas says. “I’m glad to say that I know it’s definitely in the system. Thanks for calling, Dean.”

“Yeah, no worries. Have a good night, Cas.”

Dean ends the call so he can listen to whatever the song is, and snorts when it turns out to be Pat Benatar’s _Love is a Battlefield_. 

+++

The following night, Dean’s been in his car two minutes when Cas starts talking about a terrible date he’d had a few years ago, and he immediately calls the station to tell him about the time he’d had a one night stand with a woman who then tried to convince him--two days later--that her one year old daughter was his.

“I’m pretty sure the kid lives with her grandparents, now,” Dean tells him. “But it was a while before I hooked up with any women after that. Strictly dudes.”

“I don’t blame you,” Cas laughs.

“I mean, men can be jerks,” Dean allows. “But at least the chances of accidentally knocking someone up dropped to almost zero.”

“The lack of surprises there is likely our one redeeming quality,” Cas agrees, still laughing, and Dean thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. He feels warm right down to his core.

“I dunno, some guys have more than just the one redeeming qualtity,” Dean says, then clear his throat awkwardly. He might have been daydreaming about talking to Cas all week, but he didn’t mean to flirt quite so blatantly.

“It sounds like you’ve met someone you approve of,” Cas says after a pause.

“Um,” Dean says. “I guess. Though to be honest I’m kinda fu--” he cuts himself off before he gets disconnected for cursing. “Uh, sorry. Kinda screwed. It’s an awkward situation. Not really sure how to move forward with the guy, or if I even can, you know?”

“Well, I’m hardly a font of knowledge when it comes to romance, but I’ve found that it helps to be direct. Just tell him what you want. He may surprise you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean says.

“Now, can I play something for you tonight?”

Feeling like an utter tool for even doing it, Dean requests Blondie’s _Call Me_.

Cas plays it without comment, and Dean’s cell never rings, and that, Dean figures, is the end of that.

+++

When he tunes in on Wednesday night, Cas is talking to another caller, and Dean realizes it wasn’t the end of it at all.

“ ** _Honestly, I’m having kind of a crappy week,”_** the caller is saying, his voice a little crackly over the line. ** _“I was hoping you’d play something for me._** ”

“ ** _I’m sorry to hear that,”_** Cas replies, and Dean catches himself smiling at how earnest he sounds. **_“I hope it isn’t anything serious._** ”

“ ** _It’s nothing too bad. I just found out that the girl I’m into started dating someone else._** ”

“ ** _I see_**.”

“ ** _He’s really great, too, so I can’t even hate the guy,_** ” the caller laughs, and Dean shakes his head a little.

“Tough break, dude,” he murmurs, slowing at an intersection and turning the volume up a little when it starts to rain.

“ ** _I know the feeling,”_** Cas says. **_“I have a bad habit of falling for the unobtainable, myself. I’m beginning to suspect that it’s some kind of subconscious self-sabotage on my part. In fact, just last night I caught myself in a rather reckless daydream about a--_** ” he cuts himself off, and Dean’s suddenly desperate for him to overshare as he usually does. He’s disappointed when he fails to do so. “ ** _Well, let me just say I wholeheartedly empathize with you at this very moment. What song would you like to hear?_** ”

The guy asks for Foreigner’s _I Want to Know What Love Is_ , and Dean clicks his tongue at the sheer cheese factor even as he turns it right the fuck up. Embarrassing sap or not, it’s a damn good song.

As he taps his fingers across the steering wheel, singing along, he can’t help but wonder who this unobtainable person is that Cas has feelings for. It’s probably at least part of the reason why he pulls over just past the bridge near his street, though the low visibility in the downpour is a factor. He’s got no excuse for plucking his phone from the passenger seat.

“K-HVN FM, this is Donna.”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Hello?” Donna says. “Anyone there?”

“Hey,” Dean says. “Hi, sorry. Phone cut out.”

“Not a problem,” Donna says. “How can I help?”

“I wanted to request a song,” he says.

“Sure thing!” Donna says. “I’ll just need a couple of details, and--”

“It’s, um. It’s Dean again. I called yesterday?” _And the day before. And last week_ , he thinks. _Jesus. Does anyone else call this often?_

“Oh!” Donna says after a moment. “I thought your voice sounded familiar. Just hold a minute, and I’ll put you through.”

“Thanks,” he says, and when the on hold music starts he sinks back in his seat a little. Four calls in less than seven days. He doesn’t even talk to his own brother this often lately. It’s not until he hears Cas talking that it occurs to him that he’s got literally nothing in the way of a topic.

“Hi Cas,” Dean says, and hopes that if he starts talking, he’ll reach a point eventually. “I’m, um. I was just thinking that your last caller--”

“Warren,” Cas says.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say, uh. Hang in there, buddy. You sound like a decent dude, so. I’m sure someone will come along.”

“Without a doubt,” Cas agrees.

“And same to you, Cas, y’know?” Dean goes on, wishing he could learn to shut his mouth even as it keeps on flapping. “Even if you’re, uh... into someone unobtainable right now. I’d, um... I just mean. You’re awesome. I bet there’s someone out there for you, too.”

“That’s very kind of you, Dean,” Cas says after a pause. “What can I play for you?”

He requests _Somewhere_ by Jimi Hendrix, and declines when Cas asks him to stay on the line. He doesn’t know what else he’d end up saying if given the chance, and considering how much he managed to ramble while actually live on air, he’s really not eager to find out.

He doesn’t call again on Thursday or Friday, though he has an _excellent_ anecdote on both days, purely because he feels like he might be coming off as a bit of a freak with how often he’s already called the station. 

Friday night, he settles on the couch with a beer and a Star Trek marathon, but halfway into the second episode his phone makes it’s way into his hand. 

He knows even as he’s typing the URL of K-HVN’s website into his browser that it’s a terrible idea, but he’s never shied away from self-destructive behavior before and he’s not about to start now. He tells himself he’s just looking to see when the titular Jacob is coming back, so he won’t have the temptation of calling the radio station and feeding his absurd crush any more than he already has, but when he fails to find a picture or a profile for Cas among the regular DJs he admits his true motive.

He wants to put a face to the voice he’s been daydreaming about.

Covering his eyes with his forearm, Dean groans.

+++

Sam and Eileen arrive at his door bright and early on Saturday morning, eager to head to the county fair. Dean’s tired from a long night agonizing over the continued existence of his stupid crush, and their irritatingly chipper morning smiles make him want to shut the door in their faces.

“Good morning, grumpy,” Eileen tells him.

“Do we need to take a Starbucks detour on the way?” Sam asks with a laugh, and Dean just flips him off as he goes to grab his wallet and keys.

He pauses halfway down the hall, turning back to Eileen to haltingly sign as he says, “That was for Sam.”

She just grins and flips him off in return.

“She’s a keeper,” Dean tells Sam, laughing at his brother’s rolling eyes as he ducks into the kitchen. 

It’s about a twenty minute drive to the county fair, and Dean sits in the back, watching the way Sam occasionally lifts one hand from the wheel to sign something to Eileen, and how she grins at him. He hasn’t had anything like that in so long he might as well have never had it at all.

The wistful mood it puts him in leads directly into more pathetic fantasizing about the faceless radio DJ whose voice has been occupying his thoughts for the past week and a half, and in the quiet of the car his self-loathing _ugh_ catches Sam’s attention. He looks at Dean in the rearview.

“What’s up with you today?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Dean.”

Sam arches his brow.

“Ugh, it’s nothing,” Dean insists, looking out the window.

“ _Ohh_ ,” he looks back despite himself to see Sam raising his eyebrows, his mouth taking on a knowing smirk. “You met someone.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well I know that face, and the last time I saw it was... oh,” Sam’s face falls. “It was when you found out Aaron wasn’t really into you. Did you get rejected?”

“Oh my god, no I didn’t. I didn’t even ask him out, so--”

“Hah! So there is someone.”

“Goddamnit, Sam. Quit lawyering things out of me.”

“I’m helping!” Sam says through a laugh. Dean flicks him on the back of the ear.

“You suck.”

“I missed most of what you said,” Eileen pipes up, looking at Sam with a raised brow as she signs, “but I’m still sure you’re being a brat.”

“See!” Dean says. “Even your own girlfriend knows you’re the worst.”

+++  


He loses track of Sam and Eileen about half an hour after arriving, and when waiting in the last place he saw them and texting his brother twice yields no results, he gives up and resolves to simply meet them back at the car.

Wandering around on his own isn’t so bad, anyway. It means there’s nobody to judge him when he eats enough funnel cake to feed a small family. He’s about to bite into what’s left of it when he looks up and finds himself in front of a see-through traveling sound booth. Inside, two DJ’s are talking animatedly back and forth. Dean knows from his regrettable internet research that their names are Ed and Harry, and now that he’s paying attention, he can hear them ranting about some local haunted house through the overhead speakers.

Beside the sound booth, K-HVN has a table set up with assorted merch and fliers for sponsored local concerts. Dean wipes confectioners sugar from his face as he steps a little closer.

There are three people behind the table; a blonde woman in her thirties with a sunny smile, another woman a couple of years younger with a t-shirt asking _What Would Hermione Do?_ and a little further back, a dark-haired guy sitting with his back turned as he types on his cell phone with intense focus.

When Dean comes to a stop in front of them, the blonde woman gestures toward the half-eaten funnel cake he’s still carrying.

“Those things are addictive, am I right?” she says brightly, and Dean pats his stomach.

“Don’t I know it,” he says. She lets out a laugh, and just as he’s wondering why that laugh sounds so familiar he notices the name tag sticker stuck to her K-HVN tshirt. “Oh, hey, you’re Donna!”

He feels like a dumbass as soon as he says it, but she only beams wider.

“Guilty!” she says.

“I uh. I’m Dean. I’ve called the station a few times,” he admits. “During Jacob’s Ladder?”

Her eyes widen when he says that, and Dean hears the other woman choke on her coffee. By the time he looks up she’s turning away, moving toward the guy at the back as she coughs to clear her throat.

“What did I miss?” Dean asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Donna says, collecting herself, but she glances to the side. “Charlie’s just an odd duck.”

Dubious, Dean nods, looking over Donna’s shoulder to see Charlie leaning down to say something to the guy, who immediately tenses and looks at Dean. He says something quietly to Charlie and stands. Dean gulps.

“Um,” he says. “Is that--”

“Hello Dean,” the guy says, and Dean very nearly swallows his own tongue, because that’s the voice he’s been daydreaming about all week and it’s coming out of someone who took that tired old stereotype of having a face for radio and pitched it directly into hell.

“Hi Cas,” Dean says. Cas smiles at him, and Dean promptly forgets every other word in the English language.

“I didn’t realize you were quite so local,” Cas says.

“Yeah, uh. Born and raised,” Dean says, resting his fingers on the table between them. He glances down when he feels paper beneath them.

“Were you planning to enter?” Cas asks, and Dean looks up again before he’s registered what the papers are for.

“Oh, I uh. Yeah, maybe--” he looks back down and notices that the prize is a hot air balloon ride for two. He gulps. “--maybe not. Flying isn’t really…”

“It’s supposed to be beautiful,” Cas tells him, pointing at a poster behind him that shows a giant purple balloon rising over the hills in the sunrise, before meeting Dean’s eye again. “You could take that, um. That person you mentioned. On your call.”

Dean draws an immediate blank.

“The guy you mentioned,” Cas prompts him. “You didn’t know how to move forward with him?”

“Oh,” Dean says. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Donna and Charlie watching them, but as soon as they see him looking both women become intensely focused on other things. He swallows nervously before looking back at Cas. “So you think this would make a good first date?”

“It would certainly be memorable,” Cas says.

“Yeah, it’s hard to forget the sound of me screaming,” Dean jokes, then flushes when he realizes how it sounded. “Not that, uh. Yeah. I just mean--”

“Maybe he’d be able to distract you enough that you could both just appreciate the view,” Cas says.

Donna and Charlie are staring at them again, and when Dean risks another glance at them Donna meets his eye and emphatically nods toward the entry form. _Do it_ , she mouths. It takes every bit of Dean’s thirty-odd years of self loathing to convince himself that none of this means Cas could be into him, too.

“I don’t know,” Dean says, searching for some way to find out if it’s even in the realm of possibility. “Don’t you think it would bother him if I spent the whole date with my eyes closed?”

“Not if he still got to talk to you,” Cas replies.

“Well, I definitely like the sound of his voice, so that works out.”

For a long moment, Cas holds his gaze, and Dean’s self loathing gutters like a candle.

“How do I enter?”

Cas looks away at that, down at the ground with a half smile, and Charlie pops up out of nowhere.

“Just put your details down here,” she tells him, handing over a pen and utterly destroying any short-lived belief Dean had that she had stopped eavesdropping. “Two names will be chosen at random, and there’ll be a trivia contest on air to decide the winner.”

“Well here’s hoping I win,” Dean says, finally caving in. Throwing caution to the wind, he throws Cas a wink that he hopes gets his meaning across, and gets a smile in return. It’s something. He hopes it’s something.

+++

It’s not quite quitting time the following Monday when Dean’s cell starts ringing, and Bobby waves him off when he digs it out of his pocket.

“Go on,” he says. “Finish up now, if you want. This’ll all be here in the morning.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” he says, hitting answer as he steps out of the garage. “Hello?”

“Hiya, Dean!” a bubbly voice greets him. “This is Donna from K-HVN calling to tell you you’re one of two randomly selected finalists in our Lawrence Balloon Tours giveaway!”

“...are you serious?”

“Yup!” she says.

“I got randomly selected,” Dean says.

“...yup,” Donna says, her voice slightly less confident, and Dean’s not sure whether he’s more excited by the reason why he might have been chosen on purpose, or unimpressed with the integrity of the contest’s selection process. “Um... hold the line.”

It’s less than five minutes before she’s got the other finalist queued up, and Dean makes himself comfortable in the driver’s seat of his car while he waits to be put through to the show. Even with the time to prepare himself, his stomach still flips when he hears Cas’ voice.

“Dean and Cecily both entered into the draw to win a dawn balloon ride with Lawrence Balloon Tours. Are you both on the line?”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says in reply, just as a woman says, “Hello!”

“Excellent,” Cas says. “I’ve got three questions here, and the prize will go to whoever gets the most right. Are you ready?”

They both agree, and Dean presses his phone harder to his ear, determined.

“Question one: which anti-war protest song was released in--”

“99 Luftballons,” Cecily says before Dean’s even opened his mouth, and he curses internally. 

“One point to Cecily,” Cas says, and Dean can’t help but think he sounds a little put out. It strengthens Dean’s resolve to be faster on the next one. “Question two: what is the next line in this song by Queen?”

There’s a tiny pause, and then _Death on Two Legs_ plays.

**_You talk like a big business tycoon, you're just a hot air balloon, so no one gives you a damn--_ **

_“_ You’re just an overgrown schoolboy! _”_ Dean hears himself singing as soon as the song cuts out, and can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about his off-key voice.

“That’s correct,” Cas says with a laugh. “That’s one point to each of you, though I am tempted to grant an extra half point for singing. This next question will be the decider, so make sure you’re paying attention. Which band chose their name based on the fear that their attempts at fame might go down like a lead balloon?”

“Led Zeppelin,” Dean answers, quick as anything, and hears a groan from Cecily just as Cas announces him the winner.

“Thanks for playing along, Cecily. Donna has some K-HVN merch for you, if you stay on the line,” he says, but there’s only silence from Cecily. Apparently, she’s already gone. Cas barely spares a moment before he redirects back to Dean. “Now, the important question, Dean; who are you going to take with you?”

It’s tempting to flat out ask Cas if he wants to go, but the chance that another entrant might claim the whole thing was rigged pulls him up short. He’s already pretty sure there was some funny business involved in his name being drawn in the first place. He’s not about to question it, though--even if the thought of floating around in a balloon basket seems only slightly less terrifying to him than swimming with hungry orca.

It’s better to approach this sideways. Just to be safe. His fear of outright rejection has nothing to do with it.

“Well, I uh... I actually met someone at the county fair,” he says carefully. “I wasn’t even going to enter this contest until he talked me into it, so I’m kind of hoping he’ll let me take him.”

There’s a pause, palpable and agonizing, before Cas replies.

“Well, I think he’d be a fool not to,” he says, and the slight curl to his voice is evidence that he’s smiling. Dean beams. He catches his own eye in his rearview mirror and barely recognizes himself, he’s grinning so wide.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Who could resist a hot air balloon ride?” Cas points out.

“Heh, yeah. Awesome. I guess... I’ll be seeing him this Saturday morning, then?”

“I’d say so. Stay on the line, Dean.”

Briefly, the sound of on-hold music plays, and Dean chews on his lip, his stomach flipping restlessly. When he hears the click on the other end, his heart pounds hard.

“Congratulations!” Donna’s voice is boisterous, and though Dean thinks she’s nice enough, hers is not the voice he was hoping to hear.

“Thanks,” he says, failing to keep the disappointment from his tone.

“Sorry, Cas had to take another call,” she says before he can ask. “Now, let me just confirm the details I have here so we can get you up in the air.”

+++

For the rest of the week, Dean’s too nervous to listen to Jacob’s Ladder. 

He leaves the radio off completely, driving home in silence, and wondering how awkward his balloon ride with Cas is going to be. On some level, he feels like they’ve gotten to know one another a little in the short conversations they’ve shared. But they’re basically strangers.

“So are most people on first dates, Dean,” Sam points out over dinner on Friday. “I mean, look at Eileen and I. Our first date, the only thing I knew about her personality was that she liked foreign movies.”

“All I knew about him was that he was tall,” Eileen adds, turning to look at Sam when he catches her attention.

“You knew?” he asks in faux shock, and Eileen rolls her eyes at him before returning her focus to Dean.

“The whole point of a first date is to get to know each other,” she tells him. “It’s going to be awkward, but it’s always awkward.”

Dean just groans and leans his head on his hands. He knows they’re right; that doesn’t mean he has to admit it.

What’s more, he’s kind of been expecting a phone call. A text message, at least.

Cas has access to his phone number, after all--he has since the first time Dean called the station and had to give it to Donna--so considering that they’re supposed to be meeting each other on Saturday, Dean assumed that he’d want to get in touch. But there’s been nothing, and now it’s a quarter to nine on Friday night, and he’s starting to wonder if he’d been too subtle. If what he considered coy flirtation was actually all one sided, and Cas thought Dean had some other guy in mind.

_Should have just asked_ , he thinks for the dozenth time. _Should have at least got his number._

No matter how many times he thinks it, though, it’s far too late now.

“I’m gonna head home,” he tells Sam and Eileen, and shrugs off their words of encouragement. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

+++

The launch point is in a field a few miles outside of town, and the whole way there, Dean vacillates between three different kinds of nerves. Only one of them is welcome before a date. The other two--flight fear and the near-crippling certainty that his date doesn’t even know the date is happening--are almost enough to have him making a U turn and going back to bed.

When he pulls into the tiny parking lot, the only other vehicle is a truck with Lawrence Balloon Tours printed along the side, and Dean shuts off his car with trembling hands. He can see the balloon, already inflated and waiting in the field. Huge and purple and looming.

_If he doesn’t turn up, at least I don’t have to get on that thing_ , he thinks, leaning forward to peer at it over the steering wheel until a sharp knock on his window nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

Cas is there, a bicycle helmet under his arm. Dean can’t help but grin. Scared witless or not, he’s on a date with this guy. There are far worse places he could be at dawn.

“How were you awake enough to ride here?” he asks instead of saying hello, and Cas just shrugs.

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but I didn’t actually sleep last night,” he says.

Dean lifts his brow in surprise, and Cas looks momentarily mortified.

“Not that-- I wasn’t up all night because of _this_ ,” he rushes to clarify. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep.”

“So, you _weren’t_ looking forward to seeing me?” Dean asks with a grin. Cas’ attempt to frown is thwarted by his own answering smile, and all at once Dean’s lingering panic seems to fade to nothing.

“I didn’t say that,” Cas says. “I just decided that staying up all night would ensure that I wasn’t... an ‘ornery asshole’ is, surprisingly enough, the most common description. I’m really not a morning person.”

“Wish I’d thought of that,” Dean says. “I went the two-cups-of-coffee route, and I don’t think it’s helped with my pre-flight nerves.”

“I believe it’s your date’s job to distract you from that,” Cas says, so awkward that Dean melts a little, and nods toward the waiting balloon. “Shall we?”

+++

It’s still mostly dark when they climb into the basket, and Dean can’t tell if his wildly tossing stomach has more to do with the fact that he’s about to be airborne or the guy standing beside him. His knuckles are white where he grips the basket’s edge. Cas nudges him, his voice close and quiet.

“We don’t have to go up,” he says. “We can tell the pilot we’ve changed our minds.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head tightly. “I’m good.”

For a moment, Cas hesitates, and Dean thinks he’s about to insist that they remain on the ground. Instead, he just lifts his hand to hover over Dean’s.

“Can I--” he asks, and when Dean nods, he slides his fingers over Dean’s knuckles, rubbing his thumb over the side of his palm before putting his other arm around Dean’s waist. Dean lets out a shuddering breath. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you this would be a memorable first date,” he says quietly.

Dean laughs, though it’s a nervous thing, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the pilot announces that he’s about to take them up.

“Ready?” Cas asks.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “I’m ready.”

The basket rocks as they rise, and Dean closes his eyes, leaning into Cas and breathing slowly through his nose as he hums the riff to _Some Kind of Monster_ under his breath. When they hit an air pocket and the balloon dips for a moment, he yelps and grabs at Cas’ arm.

“It’s alright,” Cas reassures him.

Dean squeezes his eyes more tightly shut.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“I’m fairly certain _you_ invited _me_ ,” Cas points out, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice, even if he can’t see it.

“Smartass,” he says. Cas laughs quietly, and the basket drops suddenly when they hit another pocket. It lasts barely a second, but Dean’s heart keeps on racing. It doesn’t slow when he feels Cas wrapping his arms around him from behind, but the reason for it’s speed shifts. 

“This is a lot more... familiar than I usually get on a first date,” Cas says, voice low and close enough that Dean can feel warmth on his neck.

“Lucky me,” Dean says, meaning it wholly. He takes a deep breath. “How high up are we?”

There’s a long pause before Cas answers.

“Pretty high.”

Dean nods, trying to focus on the solid warmth of Cas’ chest against his back, and slides his hands to cover Cas’ where they rest on his hips.

“I’m gonna open my eyes.”

“I’ve got you.”

After taking another moment to steady himself, Dean slowly cracks his eyes open. The sight is breathtaking. Before them, the Kansas landscape is spread out for miles, a patchwork of farmland and houses, lit up by the dawn. Cas hugs him a little tighter.

“Wow,” Dean breathes.

“Mmhmm,” Cas hums. “It’s incredible to see from this angle.”

Craning his neck, Dean tries to look straight down over the edge and tenses immediately, turning his back to the basket’s edge.

“Nope,” he says.

Cas huffs under his breath.

“Too much?” he asks.

“Much too much,” he says, and looks at Cas apologetically. “Would you think I was pathetic if I wanted to go back down already?”

“Not even a little.”

Dean sags forward, and Cas’ arms go back around him as if on instinct.

“Oh, thank god.”

He doesn’t pay attention as Cas asks the pilot to take them down, instead choosing to focus on how nice Cas’ hands feel. The soothing stroke of his thumb over Dean’s knuckles. He smells good, too, Dean realizes. Like peppermint and honey.

The basket creaks a little when they finally touch down, and Dean sucks in a relieved breath. Cas squeezes his hand and looks him in the eye.

“Do you want to go have breakfast?” he asks.

+++

Cas’ bike only just fits in the back of the Impala, and the clickers on the spokes make for a noisy drive to the diner he directs Dean to. 

“The bike belongs to my housemate,” Cas says as they turn another corner. “He’s twenty-eight, but I suspect he’s clinging to his adolescence.”

“I did wonder about those clickers,” Dean says with a grin. “Don’t think I’ve seen those since I was in middle school.”

The diner is a cute little place called Rosie’s, with red and white awning and an oak tree out front, and Dean can already tell the food is going to be amazing. He wishes he had the stomach to eat today, but the balloon ride, as nice as the view and company had been, have left him feeling slightly queasy.

“We don’t have to have breakfast if you’re unwell,” Cas says, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“I’ll just stick to toast,” he says, and Cas eyes him with obvious concern. It only makes Dean more determined to spend more time with him. At once, crystal clear, he remembers what Cas said on that call last week. _Be direct. Tell him what you want._ “I don’t want this date to end yet.”

Cas’ look of concern is replaced almost comically fast with one of shy pleasure, and Dean’s heart flutters at the sight.

“Well, since we’re here so early, there’s still another fifteen minutes until they open,” Cas says, fighting a smile. “Perhaps you’ll feel a better by then?”

“I hope so,” Dean says, and opens his door. “Let’s wait outside.”

“Fresh air,” Cas says by way of agreement. “Good idea.”

“We can do something simpler for our second date,” Cas tells him once they’re both outside, making his way around to the path that leads to a bench outside the diner’s door. “Perhaps dinner and a movie.”

Dean feels a giddy kind of thrill at the words, and he stops to face Cas head on.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

“Dinner and a movie?”Cas tilts his face a little to the side. Dean shakes his head.

“A second date.”

“Oh,” Cas says, ducking his head as his cheeks grow pink. “Good.”

It’s still their first date, and it’s not even nine in the morning, but--

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” Dean asks, and Cas replies by pulling him close.

With their lips pressed together and moving in tandem, it occurs to Dean that  _The Hit Pit_ never let him down after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a complete list of the songs that are mentioned in this fic! I'm sure Dean would be disgusted to see those two Jeffersonian nightmares included, but them's the breaks.
> 
> Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash  
> White Rabbit - Jefferson Starship  
> Thunderstruck - AC/DC  
> Renegade - Styx  
> Let the Music Do the Talking - Aerosmith  
> Goodbye Stranger - Supertramp  
> Believe It or Not - Joey Scarbury  
> Honey Hole - Lynyrd Skynyrd  
> Somebody to Love - Jefferson Airplane  
> Ramble On - Led Zeppelin  
> Life on Mars - David Bowie  
> Going to California - Led Zeppelin  
> Love Is a Battlefield - Pat Benatar  
> Call Me - Blondie  
> I Want To Know What Love Is - Foreigner  
> Somewhere - Jimi Hendrix  
> 99 Luftballons - Nena  
> Death on Two Legs - Queen


End file.
